


Reunions

by standbygo



Series: Retrograde [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/standbygo/pseuds/standbygo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John bumps into someone from his past. </p>
<p>“Captain John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. You were my primary physician at Queen Elizabeth Army Hospital in Burmingham after I was invalided home from Afghanistan.”</p>
<p>A mini-sequel to No Sacrifice and Nutmeg and Mace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunions

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [团聚](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509397) by [RictinaM_Z](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RictinaM_Z/pseuds/RictinaM_Z)



> This is a little present for Chris and Charlotte, who followed the No Sacrifice story from the beginning, and have been asking for this scene from the beginning.

“Major Gould?”

Gould stopped packing his briefcase and looked up at the unassuming blonde man standing in the aisle, standing tentatively amid the conference attendees exiting the lecture hall.

“Yes?”

“I thought that was you,” the man smiled. “I saw you during the lecture and thought you looked familiar. So pleased to see you again.”

“I’m afraid you have the advantage of me.”

“So sorry.” The man snapped a quick and sharp salute. “Captain John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.” Gould returned the salute by habit. “You were my primary physician at Queen Elizabeth Army Hospital in Burmingham after I was invalided home from Afghanistan.”

“Oh yes,” Gould said. He didn’t in fact remember: he’d treated thousands of patients in his career, ridiculous for this man to assume he’d remember him out of all of them.

Watson quirked his head slightly. “Gunshot wound to right quadricep, another through the left deltoid. Concussive damage to hippocampus, swelling and lesion, resulting in retrograde amnesia of the six month period prior to injury.”

Ah. Patients he may not remember, but _cases_ he never forgot. “Ah yes! In 2010, I believe?”

“That’s right.”

“You’ve made a remarkable recovery then,” Gould said, pleased.

“Thank you. No limp at all anymore, though the shoulder aches sometimes,” Watson said. “I’ve always been grateful to those who helped put me back together. May I buy you lunch?”

Gould’s never been one to turn down a free meal, sauced with praise from a grateful former patient. “Thank you, yes.”

They went down to the hotel restaurant and took a booth near the back. “I’d love to talk shop with you, Major,” said Watson. “I’m actually practicing again and would appreciate your insight on neurological advances in trauma cases.”

“Oh yes, that’s right, you were a medic.”

“Yes, officially I’m Captain Doctor Watson. Joined up right after I qualified. I’m not doing too much now, just some locum work at the local clinic. I’m hoping to get some A&E work if I can, hence the interest in trauma.”

“To be frank, I’m surprised to hear you’re practicing,” Gould said, making a vague gesture towards Watson’s head.

“Oh yes, sorry, didn’t I say? The memories came back.”

“Really?” Gould was genuinely surprised. “That’s quite rare.”

“I know,” Watson said, smiling. “Though I won’t deny that it wasn’t a bit traumatic when they came back.”

“I hope you returned to the hospital for a full workup.”

Watson looked a bit far away for a moment. “No, things were too… busy for a while after that.”

“When was this?”

“Last year, in October.”

Gould opened his wallet and pulled out his business card. “I’m not in Burmingham anymore, I’ve a private clinic here in London. Call and make an appointment and we’ll do a follow up. I’m sure I could get your records from the RAMC.

“Cheers,” Watson said, and pocketed the card. “No, when the memories returned it was all at once, like a wave. I didn’t know what to make of it, at first. But looking back I’m grateful for it, for all of it.”

“I see,” Gould said, but didn’t understand at all.

“The whole experience brought something very important, very precious to me.” Watson lifted his left hand and showed Gould the ring on his finger.

How trite, Gould thought, but instead said, “How nice.”

“Yup, was a long time coming but we finally tied the knot last month.” Watson dug into his pocket for his wallet and flipped it open to show a picture.

_Oh god, family pictures now_ , Gould thought. _This is going to be a long lunch, I’m ordering a damn steak_.

He glanced down at the picture and groaned inwardly. Watson, decked out in a suit and tie, grinning like an idiot, standing next to a tall, dark haired man. _Oh lord, he’s a poof. Marvellous_. He wondered if he could suddenly remember an appointment and get out of there. 

Watson was still looking down at the photo, smiling gently. “It’s funny,” he said quietly, “every time I look at this picture I think about how close I came to not having this. How close I came to missing out on the love of my life.” He turned the photo back around to Gould. “Do you recognize him, Major?”

“Can’t say I do,” Gould said stiffly.

“You ought to,” Watson said. “You threw him out of my hospital room.”

Gould froze.

“And falsified my file to remove him as my emergency contact.”

Gould felt a small trickle of sweat go down the centre of his spine.

“You remember now, don’t you.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.  “He sat by my bedside for a week, and the moment you took on the file, just as I was coming out of the coma, you took it upon yourself to throw him out of the hospital, tell him not to return, took advantage of his emotional state to make him believe that his presence was affecting my recovery. Just because he was a man, and that didn’t sort in your order of the universe.”

Gould tried to stand, but Watson grabbed his suit jacket and forced him to sit again. “Stay put, Major. We’re not done yet. I’ve a few more things to share with you.”

“I’ll call the waiter,” Gould snarled. “You can’t keep me here.”

“The waiter won’t come,” Watson said calmly, and nodded towards the entrance of the restaurant. Gould looked up and saw all the waiters lined up and blocking the door, their faces blank and impassive. “And believe me, you don’t want to make a scene here.”

“This is ridiculous,” Gould snarled. But Watson had a firm grip still on his sleeve, the exit was blocked, and Gould was determined that this little poof would not get the better of him. “Say your piece, and be damned, then.”

Watson smiled, a small, bitter smile. “It took a long time and a lot of pain on all sides, but we found each other. And, more importantly, we’ve now got proof that you tampered with my file.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and removed an envelope, sliding it across the table to Gould.

“And what’s that?” Gould sneered.

“Notice of the pending law suit against you.” Watson grinned at Gould’s paling face. “You are about to find out that you messed with the wrong family, you homophobic _asshole_.”

Watson sat up straight, paused, then cocked his head to the side. “Did I miss anything?”

For a moment Gould wondered if the man was actually delusional, when a deep voice came from the next booth over. “I believe that you also wanted to call him a hack and a wanker.”

A tall man rose, the man from the picture, and slid into the booth, his long coat swirling. Watson smiled at him.

“Right, cheers, love,” Watson said, and, turning back to Gould, “You’re a hack and a wanker.”

“This is preposterous,” Gould spluttered. “This is – coercion, and libel, and holding me against my will, and-”

“Oh, we could have simply mailed the summons, especially now we have the address of your clinic; we could have had our lawyers deliver it, but that isn’t nearly as much fun, is it John?”

“And what proof have you of this so-called tampering?”

“A witness,” the tall one said. “A very good person on your staff who could not allow the situation you created to stand. She made it possible for me to help John, and is willing to testify.”

“A member of my staff? Impossible. Whoever she is, she’d be bound by confidentiality.”

“She’s retired now, and you know perfectly well that confidentiality is exempted in legal issues. She's more than happy to share her information. We also have… connections… in the British government that has provided us with hard proof.”

“Ha! And what’s that?”

“My original form,” Watson answered. “With Sherlock’s name on it, quite clearly.”

“I shudder to think what I’m going to have to do for Mycroft to recompense for _that_ favour,” the tall man muttered.

“Nonsense,” Gould spat. “This is nonsense, there is no possible way you have hard evidence, gentlemen. I’ll see you in court.” He pulled his arm away, and Watson released his hold.

“And how do you know that?” Watson said.

Gould sneered. “There’s a wonderful invention called a _shredder_ ,” he said. “Good day.”

He grabbed his briefcase and walked quickly towards the doors. Sherlock nodded at the wait staff, who parted and allowed Gould to leave the restaurant.

John turned to him. “Lovely man, isn’t he?”

“Charming,” Sherlock said with a small but genuine smile. “Fool. He thinks there’s only ever a single copy of a form in the system. And remind me when we get home – I’ve figured out why he’s such a homophobe.”

“Ooo, tell me now.”

“Not something to be told in public. Aren't you always lecturing me to not do that?” Sherlock said, his smile widening. He sighed and leaned back in the seat. “Did you enjoy yourself, John?”

“Immensely,” John grinned. “And you?”

“Very much so. And will continue to do so.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. “I recorded the whole thing.”

John’s laugh echoed around the restaurant, with Sherlock chuckle chasing it.

 

_End_

 


End file.
